Dare Me by Eric Devine Read Free Book Online

“Come on, I already have orders waiting.”
    I grab bags and check the slips and punch the addresses into my phone.
    “Oh my God! I saw the video!” Alexia bursts in and I almost drop my phone. I have no idea where she came from.
    I look around and Chuck raises an eyebrow but goes back to kneading dough. “Yeah, me too. Crazy, wasn’t it?”
    Her eyes grow huge. “Insane! Do you know those guys?”
    I look away. “No, no, remember, Ricky stumbled across their video.”
    “I know, I just thought maybe you were protecting them
or whatever. Wonder who they are? You know? We should try to figure it out.”
    “Sure. We can bet on that too, but since you already owe
me . . .”
    I trail off because Alexia isn’t smiling like I believed she would.
    “What happened to your head?” She reaches out to touch my forehead, but I grab her wrist before she can. She pulls her hand back like she’s touched a stove and tucks her arm across her face. I stare and she peeks out, looks around, and blushes. “Sorry. I . . .” Now Alexia doesn’t finish.
    “I know how nasty it looks. Surprised you didn’t faint.” I try to lighten it up because she needs me to.
    She frowns. “Yeah, it does look pretty nasty.”
    “Right.” This is so awkward. I don’t know what to say. I want to ask what that was all about, because that reaction paired with those bruises equals someone in her life who shouldn’t be. But who am I to do that? Maybe I should talk to her friend, Chantel?
    The phone rings and we look at each other. “Gotta get that.”
    I laugh like this is hilarious, and when she goes to the phone, I pick up my deliveries.
    As I head out the door I notice Chuck, who I know watched that exchange. He doesn’t say a word, but I can tell his brain’s turning faster than his hands spinning the dough. He nods and watches Alexia like a parent in the stands of something athletic. Maybe he’ll have the courage I don’t possess.
    Funny how I can go from being badass to my regular timid self in a few short hours. Funny, or maybe pathetic?
    —
    I text John after the last of my first run is delivered: Want me to pick you up?
    He replies instantly: I’m already here. Outside.
    Chuck doesn’t allow me to have people ride along while I work, but I usually pick up John at his house and he hides out while I’m getting orders. Why is he there now? I rip back to the shop as fast as I can.
    His enormous frame is a shadow at one of the two tables we have out front. He’s slurping on a soda.
    “What’s up?” I sit next to him.
    “Nothing. Couldn’t stay home any longer.”
    His voice is flat and I don’t know how many times he’s said these exact words to me. His parents are always at each other. “I hear you. I couldn’t wait to get out either. My parents were . . .” I pause, not sure what to say.
    John looks up. “Mine are getting divorced.”
    He’s also said these words a few dozen times over the years, so I hate to ask, but have to, “For real?”
    He turns back to his soda. “Maybe. Once I’m at school, I bet.”
    “Big-ass fight today?”
    He nods.
    There’s no way I’m going to drag him into the bullshit of Dad’s job and whatever that fight was about today. He’s got enough. “Let me grab up these next orders. Meet me down at the park. Okay?”
    “Sure.” John stands and it seems to take all his strength.
    “You okay?”
    “Yeah, just sore from the jump. You know?”
    “Even my feet hurt.” I open the door.
    “Hey, Ben?”
    I turn to John.
    “We’re going to be all right? Yeah?”
    For a moment I think he’s talking about the dares. But then I process. They’re nothing in comparison to what he’s going through. They’re a diversion, at best. The heaviness of his beat-down voice makes me feel old. And because I don’t want to lie, I say, “Why wouldn’t we be?”
    I turn into the shop and instantly think of a dozen reasons.

CHAPTER 7
    T hursday morning, and John and I are quiet. It’s been crazy